


A.M.

by wispsofcolour



Category: VIXX
Genre: Gen, Other, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 22:30:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13374399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wispsofcolour/pseuds/wispsofcolour
Summary: Wonshik goes home after spending the night celebrating with some old friends.





	A.M.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't even really a fic, just a tiny drabble inspired by Ravi's latest mixtape song "Alcohol" that isn't even properly proof-read (so like, I'm sorry for any grammatical errors and typoes)

Wonshik felt the biting cold of winter penetrate right down to his toes as he walked to the taxi stand at the end of the street, his gloved hands shoved deep into his pockets. He could hear the muffled throb of loud music from the clubs that were still open as he walked past them. The air smelled stale, heavily tainted with the scent of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and a small trace of vomit. Wonshik spotted the whitish stain on the opposite side of the street he was walking down and wrinkled his nose. Turning up his collar against the wind, he continued on towards the taxi stand more carefully, keeping an eye out for any more unfortunate mishaps.

The taxi he had finally managed to hail down was slow and clunky with a broken heater that made the inside of the taxi feel like a freezer. The taxi driver was a quiet old man who looked to be in his seventies with knuckles that were turning blue with cold. He only grunted in response when Wonshik told him his intended destination and they spent the fifteen-minute drive in silence. When he got off the taxi in front of his studio, Wonshik accidentally-on-purpose left his gloves in the backseat of the car.

Stepping into his studio, Wonshik felt a wave of warmth wash over him and breathed a sigh of relief. Rubbing his still-frozen fingers together, he called out as softly as he could manage. “Eongdeongi? Still awake, buddy?”

The absence of the scrabbling sounds of claws against the hardwood floors was all the response he needed. The French bulldog was most likely fast asleep in the other room, probably on his Wonshik’s favourite chair too. Sighing again, Wonshik shrugged off his outer coat and flung it over the sofa before bending over to remove his shoes and socks. His phone buzzed as he straightened back up.

_Choi Junyoung:_

_hey Wonshik! tonight was fun, ive really missed you all. we need to do this again soon, yeah?_

It was Junyoung, one of his friends from high school that he had met up with earlier that night. Or maybe it counted as yesterday now. Wonshik glanced up at the top right corner of his phone screen. 4:02 A.M. Yesterday then.

_Me:_

_yeah definitely! its been too long. soon for sure_

He knew, even as he hit send that those were just empty promises. Soon was never soon enough. Not with Junyoung, not with anyone. Nobody ever had time anymore, not even Wonshik himself. Especially not himself. He sat down heavily on the couch, feeling his entire body sag with exhaustion. Closing his eyes, Wonshik felt the soft hum of the radiator press against his ears, sharply contrasting the rowdy night of laughter he had just spent with his friends in the bar one of them owned. He could still feel the residual buzz his veins and smell the alcohol on his breath. He opened his eyes and looked around his studio, taking in just how large and empty it looked.

Wonshik swallowed thickly, forcing the ball of loneliness that was rising in his chest back down into his stomach. He rubbed his upper arms against the non-existent chill and took a deep breath, hoping to fill his chest with something. Anything. Wonshik stared up at the ceiling, living and reliving the memory and warmth of earlier that night in his head. He drifted off to sleep without turning off the lights, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

* * *

Something wet was brushing up against his fingers. Wonshik cracked open a tired eye against the harsh ceiling light, and saw Eongdeongi at the foot of the sofa licking determinedly at his fingers. Pushing himself upright, Wonshik tried his best to shake off sleep and patted the space on sofa next to him. The French bulldog jumped up onto it and snuggled up against his side, occasionally nosing at him. Wonshik felt his heart lighten, the loneliness of yesterday easing up its hold on him in the light of the late morning with the companionship of his dog. As if right on cue, his phone buzzed again.

_Hakyeonnie Hyung:_

_wonshikkieeee! don’t forget our dinner this friday!! i'll be mad if youre late!!!!!! also i’ll tell taekwoonie to eat your share (ꐦ@皿@) ( ≧Д≦)_

Wonshik smiled.


End file.
